Saturday, July 23, 2011

The Intention of Love and Tears

A few days ago I finally decided to revisit the poetry folder on my laptop. It had been about two years or so since I’ve actually tried to create anything worthwhile. Reading over this particular piece it quickly brought back the bitter emotions that originally gave birth to the poem.
Making a few edits here and there, then re-reading it out loud like I might have done several years ago when performing at "Love and Spoken Words" poetry night in L.A. (Ladera Heights), the inspiration to create returned and it was a beautiful thing! I will return to creativity! I have to return to creativity!

The Intention of Love and Tears

Love, woke me from a dream
And told me all the beautiful things I’ve wanted to hear.
About how I should never fear the weight of my burdens.
About how She would forever be there with her comfort
Like the soft cotton blankets of my youth.

Love wrapped her wings around me
And sang a sweet melody in my ear
About a place of peace and tranquility.
Where blue streaming waters ran clear,
Where colourful butterflies flew content and carefree
And white calla lilies grew underneath the new eastward sun.
She promised me this is where we’d be the next time she appeared
Just Her and me.

Love then kissed me softly on my lips
With a gentleness saved for Sunday mornings
And promised She would soon return.

I believed Her like I always did on nights like this.
I believed Her because I trusted Her.
I believed Her because She was my angel of promise,
I believed Her because Love is supposed to be faithful and true and devoting
and all those sweet things we're supposed to trust.
Very simply I just believed Her.
Her kiss would not and could not ever lie to me.

But, Love never came back,
How mysterious could that be?
Or, is it only me who can’t solve Her mystery?
Am I blind? Am I missing what I’m supposed to see?

They say a man is not supposed to cry but,
How much heartbreak can one man survive?
How much loneliness must I endure
until the notion of Love dries up and dies?
A mystery? A lie? A simple misunderstanding of intentions?

I would still deny the truth.
So I continued to wait for that eastward sun,
Loyally I still waited for Love to come.
But no matter how much I slept,
She was never there to wake me.
No matter how much I wept,
There were no kisses to soothe me
No matter how long I kept Her in my memory,
Love would never return
But a man is not supposed to cry.

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About Mark

Born and raised in Los Angeles, California I've spent most of my adult life in the sports and entertainment industries. Now that I live in Stuttgart, Germany I'm a freelance copywriter and Business English trainer and the adjustment to German life has probably been the most challengng experience of my life. So, I thought I'd write about it!

"A guilty conscience needs to confess. A work of art is a confession."